


The Way We Touch

by Selly87



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Awesome Molly Weasley, Confident Harry Potter, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Fluff, Good Narcissa Black Malfoy, Gringotts Wizarding Bank, Holding Hands, Lucius Malfoy Being an Asshole, M/M, POV Draco Malfoy, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-13 08:53:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 7,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17485058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selly87/pseuds/Selly87
Summary: I want to be the only hand you ever need to hold.The way we hold hands tells a lot about our relationship, let's take a look at the way Harry and Draco hold hands. Just what does it say about their relationship?





	1. Downward Facing Palms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> _“Sometimes, reaching out and taking someone’s hand is the beginning of a journey. At other times, it is allowing another to take yours.”_ – Vera Nazarian

“This was a bad idea,” Draco sighs as he follows Harry and they step out onto Diagon Alley. As the magical gateway at the back of the Leaky Cauldron slowly seals behind them, Draco ponders if there is still time to disapparate.

Harry turns his head and smirks. “I thoroughly disagree, I’m dying to show you off. You, Draco Malfoy, are way too handsome, too gorgeous, and too sexy to keep you hidden away behind closed doors any longer,” he says and Draco can’t help but roll his eyes at Harry’s mawkish declaration. _Insane, that what you are_ , he thinks and when Harry gives him a pointed look that screams _I-know-what-you’re-thinking-stop-it_ , he wonders when exactly he has turned into such a pushover. Lately, he is all too content to let Harry make all decisions and take the lead in most aspects of their lives.

“You’ll regret this,” Draco suspires, though he isn’t sure why. It’s not like they made the decision to publicise their relationship on a whim. They did talk about it. A lot. But Draco still feels apprehensive and knows it’s only a matter of time before people start noticing that Harry Potter, _The Saviour_ himself, has come to Diagon Alley. Once they do, they will also notice that the person standing next to him is none other than Draco Malfoy. When that happens, the photographers will start to swarm around them, snapping one photograph after another while _The Prophet’s_ reporters will start firing questions at Harry, demanding to know why he is standing next to a former Death Eater.

“ _I will not_ ,” Harry says resolutely and then does something that instantly silences Draco’s thoughts and fills him with a strong sense of security. Harry takes his hand, wraps his fingers around them and as their palms press together and Harry squeezes gently and possessively, Draco feels protected and cared for. He suddenly feels entirely confident that they’ve made the right choice and he is sure that Harry knows exactly what they are doing. And if he doesn’t, they’ll figure it out somehow.


	2. The One-Finger Hold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/13414151@N02/45898870065/in/dateposted-public/)  
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> _“Every day is beautiful when you’re holding hands with your best friend.”_ – Dave Willis

Gryffindor scores, and Harry is up on his feet. He is clapping and shouting and whistling and does not at all resemble the respectable Head of the Auror Department he usually is. Draco glares daggers at his back and curses the day he fell head over heels for a man whose favourite colours are red and gold. As his eyes fall onto the magical scoreboard, Draco turns morose and his expression grows sour. Slytherin is falling behind and all because the Gryffindor team seems to know what they are doing.

 _Idiots, the lot of them,_ Draco huffs in his mind and mentally prepares to rip the Slytherin Quidditch captain a new one just as soon as the game is over. His former house team is uncoordinated, divided and appears to have no plan whatsoever. The Slytherin Seeker is aimlessly flying circles high above the pitch and Draco can’t help but wonder if the stupid girl is blind or just doesn’t know what she’s supposed to be doing. He can’t quite comprehend how he is able to easily spot the Snitch from the stands but the Slytherin Seeker is not.

 _Imbecile_ , he mutters under his breath. It’s too quiet for anyone to hear. On a whim, he makes the decision to put his potion’s business on hold in favour of taking over the job as Head of Slytherin House. _Those snakes need a firm hand_ , he muses and loses himself in a daydream as he imagines what it would feel like to return to Hogwarts to teach potions, take charge of Slytherin house and educate those brats on how to show Gryffindor their rightful place.

Lost in his fantasy, Draco even finds himself writing a curriculum and putting together a list of house rules. He nearly jumps out of his seat when a finger hooks loosely around his little finger. He looks down at the innocent barely noticeable way, Harry has linked their hands and finds himself smiling as his annoyance slowly dissipates and he reminds himself that it’s only a Quidditch game. Harry’s focus is on the game but Draco feels inexplicably pleased that even though Harry is thoroughly distracted, a small part of his mind has remembered Draco, remembered him enough to crave physical touch.

Draco smiles, curls his little finger that little bit tighter around Harry’s and the tiny movement breaks Harry’s concentration and he turns his head to look at Draco. A devilish smirk appears on his face and as he leans closer, Draco visibly shudders.

“If my house loses, you are in charge for the rest of the week. If not, you’ll have to wait until next week to have an orgasm,” he whispers into Draco’s ear and swallowing hard, Draco focuses on the Slytherin Seeker and gives her a death stare. She catches it, uncomfortably shifts on her broom and Draco scowls. _You better win this game, or I’ll hold you responsible_ , he thinks and doesn’t even feel bad that he is blaming a thirteen-year-old for the fact that he probably isn’t going to be having any sex, or at the very least no orgasm, for the remainder of the week if Gryffindor wins.


	3. The Interlocked Gesture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> _“I crave the most innocent parts of a relationship. Like holding hands, forehead kisses and being able to tell someone how much I adore them.”_ -Unknown

Draco gasps as Harry thrusts into him and hits that sweet spot deep inside of him. His toes curl, and his skin feels on fire. He’s so utterly alive and all his senses are hypersensitive. He shudders and sucks in a sharp breath as Harry’s hand trails along his upper arm, over the faded Dark Mark on the inside of his left forearm. Harry’s hand effortlessly slips into his and their fingers intertwine. Harry squeezes possessively and Draco tightens his hold on Harry, wraps his arm around Harry’s neck and draws him in for a long ravenous kiss.

Harry moans into the kiss, withdraws from inside Draco and just before he slips out completely, he snaps his hips forward and claims Draco roughly. Draco grunts and Harry pounds into him, repeatedly hitting his prostate.

The sweet torture makes Draco float and as Harry breaks their mind-numbingly passionate kiss and looks down at him, Draco blinks, desperately tries to focus on Harry but his vision is a blur, his lungs are burning and his entire body his thrumming with desire and need and an unquenchable hunger for _more, more, more_.

Harry squeezes his hand, squeezes it tight and Draco somehow manages to concentrate on Harry’s face and his intense green eyes. They make Draco gasp and tremble and he feebly squeezes Harry’s hand in return. He opens his mouth to speak, wants to tell Harry how utterly maddeningly in love he is with him but only gibberish makes it past his lips. He growls in frustration and Harry silences him with a fervent and intoxicating kiss that eventually sends him over the edge and he comes hard, spurting long ropes of his come all over himself and Harry.

He feels himself melt into a pile of goo and Harry’s thrusts become hard and possessive, his kiss deep and greedy. One, two, three firm pushes later and Harry arches his back, groans into Draco’s mouth and shudders as he climaxes. Draco feels Harry filling him with his come and the feeling is utterly perfect. Harry’s thrusts slow but still push his come deeper into Draco and eventually Harry isn’t quite able to keep himself up any longer. He slumps forward and somehow Draco finds a bit of energy in him to roll them both onto their sides. He squeezes Harry’s hand, still intertwined with his own, and buries himself in Harry’s heaving chest as Harry slowly slips from his tight channel and some of his come slowly runs out of Draco.

It feels uncomfortable and wet and sticky but Draco feels too blissful to care. Instead, he allows himself to drift off as he listens to the pounding of Harry’s heart. He’s vaguely aware of the fact that Harry’s fingers are in his hair and that he’s kissing the top of his head. Draco grins stupidly, buries his face further in Harry’s chest and kisses the heated, sweaty skin.

“You absolutely are my favourite thing,” he hears Harry whisper and drifts off completely.


	4. Over the Shoulder Hold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> _"I am a strong person but every now and then I need someone to hold my hand and tell me everything will be alright."_ -Unknown

“You know what, Father, I absolutely don’t give a flying fuck whether you support the fact that I’m gay!” Draco snaps and is instantly grateful when Harry places his right arm loosely around his shoulder and draws him close. Glaring at his father, Draco defiantly takes Harry’s hand with his left and squeezes gently. Harry returns the gesture and Draco feels some of his anger seep away.

“You’re a disgrace to the Malfoy family name!” Lucius shouts at him, his face flushed with anger.

“ _Wrong_ , Father,” Draco holds his ground, determined not to give in, no matter how much his father’s angry scowl pains him. “ _You_ disgraced the Malfoy family name when _you_ sided with Voldemort. I did everything I could to reinstate it and now that I have, please don’t tell me how to live my fucking life! Telling you about Harry before you read it in the papers is me trying to show you an ounce of respect, but judging by how you think of your own flesh and blood, I guess coming to see you was a mistake!”

“Lucius, Draco, _please_!” Narcissa cuts in and Draco feels sorry for his mother, who is helplessly standing by, watching her husband and her only son fight a bitter battle of wills.

“Stay out of it, Cissy,” Lucius snarls without even looking at his wife and Draco is at once overcome with a wave of red-hot anger that makes his body shake violently. Harry tightens his hold on him, squeezes his hand a little tighter and Draco forces himself to take a deep breath. His right hand is itching. He desperately wants to draw his wand and curse his father but despite Lucius’ utterly contemptuous lack of propriety and understanding, Draco cannot bring himself to raise his wand against his own father. _I guess you and I are just not cut from the same cloth,_ he thinks bitterly and fixes his father with an icy death glare.

“Don’t talk to Mother like that!” Draco hisses and is innately pleased when his father takes a step back, clearly taken by surprise at the venom in his son’s voice. “I am not asking for your permission to be gay or date Harry Potter, I am not even asking for your acceptance or your blessing. I just thought you deserved to know,” Draco forces himself to speak calmly and it feels like the most difficult thing he has ever done in his entire life, especially because he is shaking like a leaf.

Harry, who has yet to say anything, merely tightens his hold on him and Draco briefly wonders how it is possible that he is still standing upright. All he wants to do is sink to his knees, bury his face in Harry’s chest and sob until his tears run dry. _It’s all a lie, every word is a lie, I do care and I do want your acceptance, father,_ he thinks with sadness and blinks when salty tears sting his eyes.

“You are no son of mine,” Lucius says evenly, his voice entirely devoid of any emotion, and Draco turns away, unable to look at his father for just a second longer.

“Harry, take me home,” he whispers and relishes when Harry presses a kiss to the side of his head.

“But first I have something to say,” Harry mumbles and Draco listens as his boyfriend turns on his father.

“Lucius Malfoy, I gave you a second chance when I spoke up for you and your family at the trials. I swore under oath that you deserved a fresh start and I really thought that after all the misery of the war, you might use it wisely, you might put your family first. But now that you have allowed me to witness how little you actually care for your son, I wish I had asked the Wizengamot to let you rot in Azkaban,” Harry speaks calmly and with conviction and Draco wonders how many more times he is going to fall in love with Harry Potter before his heart can’t take it anymore.

“Your son is most precious, he’s a truly amazing person and if you don’t want him, if you are going to throw him away like that, well by all means do. But know this, he’s mine and I’ll love him more than you ever have or ever will. You do not deserve his love,” Harry adds, then pauses and Draco closes his eyes and feels perfectly at home in Harry’s arms.

“Narcissa, if you would like to see your son, you are most welcome to visit us at Number 12 Grimmauld Place anytime you wish. I trust you know the location of your old family home,” Harry addresses Draco’s mother and then Draco feels the familiar pull of apparition as everything around him turns into a blur.


	5. Wrapped Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/13414151@N02/45898869805/in/dateposted-public/)
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> _“Sit with me, and I’ll not be alone. Hold my hand, and I’ll not feel alone. Cry with me, and I’ll no longer suffer alone.”_ – Richelle E. Goodrich

It doesn’t happen often that Harry loses his confidence and sassy predisposition but right now he looks like he has seen a Dementor and Draco’s heart cracks a little as he tentatively reaches out and places his hand on Harry’s shoulder.

Harry’s head snaps around and he fixes his gaze on Draco. The vulnerable expression in his usually so vibrant eyes makes Draco’s heart contract painfully and he squeezes Harry’s shoulder.

“Talk to me,” he whispers.

He can’t recall the last time Harry woke up from a nightmare, sweat-soaked, screaming and thrashing around the bed, and whereas he has never asked Harry to talk about his bad dreams before, he can’t help himself now.

“Everyone died because I couldn’t do it,” Harry whispers and Draco frowns.

He summons his wand from the nightstand and swishing it, he casts a non-verbal cleaning charm on the bed and Harry, then eases him back into the pillows and drapes himself all over Harry. Harry instinctively wraps his right arm around him and Draco slips his left hand into Harry’s wrapping his fingers around it.

“Couldn’t do what?” he asks tentatively and isn’t at all sure whether he wants to know the answer.

They have talked about everything that’s happened during the war and Draco’s mostly made his peace with it, but the scars are still there. Some are physical, some are mental and while practising avoidance usually works, Draco knows that it is neither healthy nor healing.

“Die,” Harry whispers shakily and Draco sucks in a sharp breath.

He knows that Harry walked into the forest that night to die, that he did die but came back. He still can’t wrap his mind around it and even though he has secretly researched Horcruxes and knows all there is to know about them. He thinks he probably knows more about them than Hermione Granger does and both his brain and heart ache equally whenever he thinks about what happened that night and then thinks about what he and Harry have now. Harry has come to mean so much to him and when he is feeling all out of sorts like he is right now, Draco finds it even harder to imagine what his life was like before Harry Potter marched into it and turned it upside down. _Not that you never turned it upside down before,_ he muses and bites back a chuckle.

“Don’t,” he whispers instead and raises his head to look down at Harry. “That’s history,” he reminds him and manages a small smile. “It was just a nasty dream.”

“Felt so real,” Harry mumbles and sighs.

“More real than this here now?” Draco wants to know and Harry looks at him for a moment, then shakes his head.

“No, this here definitely feels more real,” he says, then smiles too.

Draco frees that suppressed chuckle from before, shuffles into a sitting position and climbs out of bed. He drags Harry out of it with him, and they leave the bedroom hand in hand. Harry lets himself be dragged down the stairs, doesn’t even protest, and once in the kitchen, Draco sets about making tea and searches the pantry for Harry’s beloved treacle tart. He doesn’t bother to cut off a slice but instead places the entire tart in front of Harry and hands him a fork.

“The best cure for nightmares,” he grins and Harry rolls his eyes at him but starts to eat the tart anyway.


	6. Subtle Touches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> _“Nothing, I learnt, brings you into the present quite like holding hands. The past seemed irrelevant; the future, unnecessary.”_ – Catherine Lowell

“A toast, Mr Malfoy?” Harry asks with a smirk and raises his glass of champagne.

Draco eyes him warily and is acutely aware that people in the room are slowly turning to look at them. He quickly clinks glasses with Harry and takes a sip of his champagne.

“What are you playing at, Potter?” he hisses when Harry comes to stand beside him and casually leans back against the bar. His hand dangles at his side and he ever so gently brushes his fingers against the back of Draco’s hand, making him both shudder and flinch away from the touch and push toward it.

“Nothing at all,” Harry replies nonchalantly. “Just thought I’d keep up appearances, remind you whom you belong to.”

Draco sucks in a sharp breath. “You’ll out us both,” he mumbles and raises his champagne flute to his lips to take another sip.

“I don’t think I will,” Harry replies and politely greets a Ministry employee. “Unless of course, you’d be okay with me plunging my tongue into your mouth and snogging you senseless right here, right now.”

“I would most definitely not be okay with that,” Draco says and swallowing hard, he lets his eyes dart around the banquet hall and wonders yet again what possessed him to show his face at an official Ministry function. _I want you there, I need something sexy to look at to distract me from the boredom of it all_ , Harry’s words, spoken just after he sucked him off, ring in his ears. When Harry chooses exactly that moment to, _yet again_ , brush his fingers playfully against the back of Draco’s hand, Draco feels the innocent touch surge through his whole body.

“Can we get out of here then? Because I’ve had enough of playing nice. I want to play dirty now and I want to do it with you,” Harry whispers and Draco notes that he’s leant closer because he can feel Harry’s breath on his skin and it makes him shiver. His own fingertips brush against Harry’s and his knees buckle a little as he hastily finishes off his champagne.

“Follow me in five,” he says with a shaky voice and still not daring to look at Harry, he moves away and gracefully snakes his way through the crowd of Ministry employees, celebrities, and foreign attachés.


	7. Firm Grip Gesture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> _“So hold my hand tight. Hold my hand with confidence. For this love can last forever. For this love, we shall share together.”_ – Shelby Dawson

Draco places his hand on top of Harry’s thigh just a little too high to still be considered appropriate. Harry’s hand instantly clasps over his and his grip is firm and possessive. It covers his entire hand and presses it into his thigh, keeping it right there. Draco swallows hard and unable to look away he keeps his eyes locked on Harry’s. The vibrant green makes him dizzy and Harry’s smouldering gaze doesn’t do anything at all for his sanity.

“Mine,” Harry snarls, grips his hand that little bit tighter and Draco winces a little. It hurts but not uncomfortably so, and Draco feels himself relax. There is something about Harry when he gets all dominating and wants control that really excites Draco. Despite his temper, despite his predisposition to jump to conclusions or his lack of patience, Draco can’t quite stop himself from melting, from surrendering just a little more of himself than he usually would.

Harry is no longer the strange boy he was back at Hogwarts. These days not even a temperamental Hungarian Horntail unsettles him. He oozes confidence and is bold with a striking sense of humour, Draco can’t quite get enough of. It’s addictive, highly so. Every aspect of Harry, along with his delectable body, is.

“Ever so proprietorial, Potter,” Draco teases with a smirk and Harry chuckles but his eyes darken several shades. They make Draco swallow hard.

“Don’t tell me you don’t like it,” Harry hits a nerve. His other hand comes to rest on the small of Draco’s back and his fingers work themselves underneath Draco’s shirt, Draco hisses and arches away from the teasing touch, then pushes back into it.

“Oh, I like it alright,” Draco smiles.

“Like it enough to strip and lie down on my desk for me so I can fuck you so hard you’ll still vividly remember who owns your arse when you have dinner with your parents tonight?” Harry asks.

Draco groans and feels his blood rush south and his prick swell rapidly in his trousers at hearing Harry’s shameless proposition.

“Fuck yes,” he mumbles and doesn’t even try to comprehend why all their conversations always seem to end in sex at one point or another. He doesn’t mind, of course. He’d be foolish to. Straightening himself up, he withdraws his hand from Harry’s thigh and unclasps his silken robes. As he slips them off his shoulders, he watches Harry undo his trousers and pull his own prick out, stroking it slowly as he patiently waits for him to finish undressing.


	8. The Wrist Grab

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> _“Relationship is not just holding hands while you understand each other. It’s also having lots of misunderstandings and still not leaving each other’s hands.”_ – Ryan Ferreras

Draco feels his wrist grabbed, feels Harry’s fingers wrap themselves around his wrist, feels him squeeze hard. He growls, spins around to glare at Harry and finds himself yanked back and right into Harry’s arms.

“You’re not leaving,” Harry snarls.

His eyes are blazing with a kind of fury, Draco can’t even begin to describe. He doesn’t even want to. Ordinarily, that look in Harry’s eyes would scare him, but this time he’s not backing down. He’s beyond incensed and not in the mood to talk to Harry. He doesn’t even want to see him.

“Let go!” Draco says brusquely and attempts to wrench his wrist from Harry’s iron grasp. Harry merely tightens his hold and Draco grimaces as he twists his wrist beyond what his sinews can take. The pain that flares and surges up his arm is nearly unbearable and he gives in and momentarily stops fighting.

“I will not, not until you _listen_ ,” Harry remains resolute and stares him down, his earlier fury now replaced with determination.

“I don’t want to listen,” Draco finds himself saying petulantly and jerks his wrist away again. He wants to cross his arms over his chest and give Harry his most menacing and blood-chilling death glare, but Harry thwarts his plans when he continues to refuse to let go and Draco is rapidly starting to hate him for it.

“You will listen anyway,” Harry decides and Draco finds himself dragged over to the couch and roughly shoved into the cushions. As he falls, Harry lets go of his wrist but before Draco can make the conscious decision to disapparate, Harry has straddled his thighs and is pinning him into the sofa. This time Harry grabs both his wrists and presses them firmly into the sofa cushions.

“I _did not_ fuck Justin Finch-Fletchley and you’re an absolute prick for even considering that there might be some truth to that completely made up exposé!” Harry snarls angrily and Draco flinches a little at the bite in Harry’s voice.

“Tell me, when was the last time _The Prophet_ printed anything credible about me?” Harry asks him and Draco starts to feel guilty, but not enough to completely back down. Not just yet. He does, however, relent somewhat.

“Those photos, you two looked very cosy,” he says quietly and fixes his gaze on a button on Harry’s shirt.

“We were also very drunk,” Harry replies and his voice has softened considerably. So much, that Draco lifts his gaze to look at Harry’s face. The expression on his face makes Draco momentarily forget how to breathe properly.

“I love you, you wanker, you know I do. Sex with you is out of this world amazing. Everything with you is out of this world amazing, even fighting, as weird as that sounds. I don’t need a cheap one-night-stand, you satisfy me completely,” Harry’s voice is low and dangerous and sexy and dizzying all at the same time.

“I saw red,” Draco relents a bit more.

“You’re fucking hot when you’re jealous, Draco Malfoy,” Harry says and his eyes are still blazing but this time not with anger. Draco breathes in sharply and wonders if a part of him purposefully picked a fight with Harry over that stupid front page article.

“You’re hot when you’re angry,” Draco admits boldly and Harry loosens his hold on his wrists considerably. So much that Draco almost misses the pressure of Harry’s possessive grasp.

Harry leans in and just when Draco thinks Harry’s about to kiss him, snog the life out of him more likely, Harry stops and hovers just inches away from his lips.

“Are we good then?” Harry wants to know and Draco stares at Harry’s full red lips and nods.  
  
“Yes,” he mumbles, “yes, we’re good.”

 _Now, fucking kiss me already, then screw me six ways into Sunday_ , he adds in his mind when Harry’s mouth crashes onto his in a domineering, claiming, open-mouthed, rough kiss.


	9. “My Man” Gesture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> _“One of my favourite things in the world is to be seeing two people that are really old, still holding hands, still kissing.”_ – Tommy Lee

Draco smiles, places his right hand onto the table and feels a surge of excitement rush through him as Harry’s fingers brush his palm. Draco strokes his thumb over the back of Harry’s fingers and his smile grows into a grin.

“The Malfoy crest ring looks good on your finger,” he teases and Harry rolls his eyes.

“What’s next? A Slytherin tie?” Harry wants to know and that surge of excitement intensifies. Draco finds himself nodding, strangely turned on by the mental images his mind is supplying him with.

“That ring on your finger and a Slytherin tie around your neck,” he tells Harry, who chuckles.

“Kinky,” Harry grins. “Do I get to wear anything else?” he asks and wriggles his fingers so that they tickle Draco’s palm.

“No,” Draco shakes his head.  
  
“Do I get to use the tie to bind your wrists together behind your back before I make you fuck yourself on my prick? Or do I get to use it to blindfold you and then kiss every inch of your gorgeous body?”

Draco barely manages to suppress the moan that wants to escape his throat and is entirely unprepared for when he suddenly finds his fingers loosely resting in the palm of Harry’s hand and Harry’s thumb running up and down the length of his now bare ring finger.

Harry fixes him with a smouldering gaze and Draco is at once grateful for the fact that they are both sitting down. There’s something in Harry’s eyes that makes Draco’s heart beat faster and his eyes widen with both shock and surprise as Harry procures a black satin-covered ring box and pops it open. Inside sparkles a platinum wedding band with a diamond-shaped emerald that shines as brightly as Harry’s eyes do. Draco swallows.

“Harry…” he breathes but Harry shakes his head.

“If you insist on me wearing your ring, then it’s only fair that you wear mine,” he says with conviction and when Harry takes the ring out of the box and gently slips it onto his ring finger, Draco literally forgets how to speak and breathe all at the same time.

“Marry me?” Harry asks as if in trance Draco watches him get up, round the table, and gracefully sink down on one knee.

“Marry me,” he repeats but this time it’s not a question, it’s a request and Draco nods, stares at Harry and at the ring on his finger and nods again.

“Yes,” he answers and is astonished that his voice sounds perfectly clear and not at all croaky or shaky.


	10. Hand On Top

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> [ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/13414151@N02/39848554673/in/dateposted-public/)  
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> _“I will never let go of your hand because I want to hold on to it forever. I will love you today and always.”_ -Unknown

“You need a break,” Draco reprimands softly. He leans over the back of Harry’s office chair, places his hand on top of Harry’s and squeezes softly. His fingers easily slide between Harry’s and he lets his other hand dangle over Harry’s shoulder, then presses a chaste kiss to Harry’s temple.

“I really do,” Harry sighs and pushing his paperwork away from him he relaxes into the strange hug and tilting his head sideways he looks up at Draco and smiles.

“Got any good suggestions?” he wants to know and Draco smirks.

“As it happens, I do.”

“Oh?”

“Hm, well, I may have taken the liberty to book us two train tickets up to Scotland for a weekend in a luxury hotel and Spa,” Draco confesses and instantly decides that he loves the way Harry’s eyes light up at the prospect of a short break away from the madness that comes with running a department and all the other crap that’s been going on in their lives lately but Draco doesn’t allow himself to think about any of it.

“When?” Harry asks with childlike curiosity.

“Train leaves at six pm from King’s Cross. I’ve packed everything we need. We’ll make it if we apparate.”

“Whatever are we waiting for? Let’s get the hell out of here, I don’t want to see another case file, raid report or interrogation summary for at least seventy-two hours,” Harry says and slowly rises from his seat, turns and wraps both arms around Draco to pull him into a tight embrace. The kiss that follows is gentle, unhurried, and soft. It has Draco melting further against Harry and he decides that he’s done making decisions. He’s had his fun, now it’s Harry’s turn again. He’s all too happy to let Harry have that because somehow it just works for them.


	11. The Double-Hand Hold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> [ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/13414151@N02/39848554683/in/dateposted-public/)  
> 
> 
> _“Holding his hand in public is just another way of saying you’re proud to have him.”_ – Drake

Draco can’t help but squeeze Harry’s hand that little bit tighter. Their fingers interlace effortlessly and Draco feels himself calm a little as Harry squeezes back in quiet reassurance.

“She isn’t going to eat you alive, you know?” Harry chuckles and Draco frowns. He isn’t so sure of that. This is _Molly Weasley_ they are talking about. The woman single-handedly raised seven children. She adores Harry and treats him as though he’s her own son. Molly Weasley also killed his crazy aunt Bellatrix Lestrange. Draco is afraid, very afraid.

When the woman in question steps out of her kitchen and into the living room of the Weasley family home, a bout of irrational fear washes over Draco. He shuffles uncomfortably and just about manages to resist the urge not to hide behind Harry’s back. This is worse than that time McGonagall called him into her office and most definitely worse than all those times Severus sent for him. Shuddering, Draco squeezes Harry’s hand as hard as he can and wraps his other hand around Harry’s forearm. He digs his fingers into Harry’s skin and he knows that he’s hurting Harry but right now he doesn’t care.

“Draco Malfoy,” Molly Weasley greets him after giving him a long calculating look and Draco swallows hard.

“Mrs Weasley,” he manages to remember his manners and greets her politely, though he doesn’t manage more than her name because an intense bout of nausea washes over him. He can’t help but wonder what might happen if he throws up all over Molly Weasley’s living room carpet and forcing himself to inhale and exhale, he tightens his hold on Harry’s arm. He doesn’t care how ridiculous that makes him look. There’s no way he is going to voluntarily let go of Harry’s arm. Harry will have to roughly pry his fingers off his arm if he wants him to let go. _Cut them off is more like it_ , he thinks.

“Harry, my dear, is your Draco quite all right? He looks like he’s seen a ghost,” Draco hears Molly Weasley say and his ears thrum as he fervently hopes that his knees won’t give out on him. He hears Harry laugh heartedly.

“He’s scared that you’ll rip him to shreds, Molly,” Harry explains and Draco wants to kick him hard but knows better than to indulge into that fleeting fancy.

“Why? Has he done anything to upset you, my dear?” Molly Weasley asks.

“On the contrary, I’m really happy he’s finally agreed to meet you.”

“I’m happy he’s here. That boy is too thin for his own good, he needs to be fed properly,” Molly Weasley says and Draco can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. Why isn’t she telling him to keep the hell away from her adopted son or at the very least watch his back? Why isn’t she reminding him of the fact that she turned his aunt into ash? Why isn’t she—

Draco does not get to finish that thought because Molly Weasley interrupts it when she addresses him directly.

“ _Draco_ , Harry tells me you make him very happy and I can see that he’s telling the truth, but if you keep squeezing his arm like that, you’ll break his bones. Be a darling and loosen that iron grip on him, won’t you? Nobody’s going to steal him from you and nobody is going to tell you to stay away from him either. If Harry’s given you a second chance, so will I,” Molly says and Draco feels his knees buckle just a little. Try as he might he does not manage to loosen his hold on Harry’s arm and hand. He feels stupid, but holding on to Harry like that feels like a lifeline—

“Relax, you,” Harry whispers softly and Draco snaps out of his trance to find Harry standing right in front of him, shielding him from Molly Weasley.

“I told you she wouldn’t eat you and she just told you herself. She really just wants to feed you, she’s like that,” he chuckles and Harry’s warm voice makes Draco relax a bit more.

He still doesn’t want to let go of Harry’s hand but when Harry places his hand on top of his, Draco slowly loosens the death grip he has on Harry’s arm. He takes a very deep breath, tells himself that he can do this and makes the conscious decision that it’s time for the snake to slither into the lion’s den. He gently nudges Harry aside and another deep breath later, he hesitatingly smiles at Molly.

“Is there anything I can help with before dinner?” he asks and Molly reciprocates his smile.  
  
“You and Harry can lay the table if you want to,” she says, then turns around and marches back into the kitchen.

“Fucking hell,” Draco whispers and Harry chuckles.

“Don’t let Molly ever hear you swear, she’ll rip you a new one,” he advises and nodding, Draco silently vows to file that information away for future reference.


	12. The Linked Arm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> [ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/13414151@N02/39848554503/in/dateposted-public/)  
> 
> 
> _“Remember, we all stumble, every one of us. That’s why it’s a comfort to go hand in hand.”_ – Emily Kimbrough

“I don’t see the problem with opening a joined vault,” Harry heatedly argues with the Gringotts head goblin and Draco links their arms and shuffles closer to Harry. He isn’t quite sure whether he’s doing it for his own comfort or because he’s somehow trying to calm Harry down before he loses the plot completely. Gringotts Wizarding Bank keeps throwing all manner of roadblocks their way and even Draco has had enough.

He feels tempted to draw his wand and hex the head goblin all the way to Timbuktu but since he doesn’t think that this will end well for him or for Harry, Draco decides to keep his cool and let Harry handle the situation. The Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has a little more pull than he does and considering that said director is also none other than Harry Potter, Draco really isn’t worried.

“You may grant Mr Malfoy access to your fault and vice versa if you sign magical waivers but I am afraid it will be impossible for you to close your current vaults and open a joint vault,” the head goblin tells Harry and Draco holds his breath and waits for the explosion he knows is imminent.

“For the last time, and with all due respect, Draco and I are legally married and have been for the past year. You have a notarized copy of our marriage certificate right in front of you. The Minister for Magic himself officiated the ceremony! Your continued refusal to grant me and my husband a join vault lets me believe that you are deliberately discriminating against the way I have chosen to live my life!” Harry snaps.

Draco is rather astonished that Harry hasn’t exploded yet. _Not much longer_ , he thinks.

“Mr Potter, I can assure you that Gringotts Wizarding Bank is not trying to in any way discriminate against you or Mr Malfoy,” the head goblin responds politely and Draco feels the strong desire to spit into his face.

He knows exactly why Gringotts is making this so difficult for him and Harry and the reason is not that they are both gay and married. The reason is much simpler. The reason is that he’s a former Death Eater.

Immediately after the war, Gringotts closed the vaults of all former Death Eaters — as well as those suspected of working with Voldemort — and seized all assets. When the Wizengamot pardoned him and his parents, Gringotts very grudgingly reinstated the Malfoy family vault but made it very clear that they would prefer not to do business with anyone who fought on the wrong side of the war.

“Then you will make the necessary arrangements to ensure that my husband and I have a joint vault with your bank. You will ensure that my husband’s assets _and_ my own are transferred into said vault and you will issue each of us with a key,” Harry stands his ground. His icy glare makes Draco shiver.

“If you fail to comply with my request, which is perfectly legal, you will force me to make a public announcement to the entire wizarding community about how you are treating the very person who gave his life to defeat Voldemort and reinstate peace within the wizarding world. Furthermore, I will also issue a formal statement to urge the Ministry for Magic to cut all ties with Gringotts and advise my fellow wizards and witches to take their business to the Wizarding Bank of America instead,” Harry continues and gently pulling his arm away from Draco’s loose hold, he crosses both his arms over his chest and defiantly stares the head goblin down.

Draco shivers and thinks his husband is scarier than his father, Severus Snape and Professor McGonagall combined. He makes a mental note to never ever cross Harry Potter and waits anxiously. The head goblin hesitates, then miraculously relents with a small nod.

“Very well, I will have the necessary arrangements made for you, Mr Potter. If it suits, you and your husband may come by tomorrow to inspect the new vault and receive your keys.”

“Perfect,” Harry nods and Draco can tell that he’s suppressing the urge to smirk. “I’m glad we finally came to a satisfactory agreement.”


	13. Butt-Holding Gesture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> [ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/13414151@N02/45898868235/in/dateposted-public/)  
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> 
> _"And he understands. He understands why people hold hands: He'd always thought it was about possessiveness, saying 'this is mine'. But it's about maintaining contact. It is about speaking without words. It is about 'I want you with me' and 'don't go'."_ -Unknown

“Harry,” Draco attempts to sound warning but the grin on Harry’s face tells him that he is failing miserably.

“What?” Harry asks with an air of nonchalance and false innocence.

“You know what,” Draco says.

“I don’t,” Harry insists and for a moment Draco feels tempted to point it out to Harry, then he spots the mischievous glint in Harry’s eyes and decides not to.

“Don’t play dumb, it’s unbecoming,” he says instead.

Harry laughs and squeezes his buttock through his snug-fitting grey trousers.

“Are you referring to my hand on your arse?”

“You know I am.”

“Want me to take it away?”

“We’re in public.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Do you want me to take my hand away?”

Draco hesitates for a moment, then inclines his head in a small nod.

“Are you absolutely sure? I was rather under the impression that you liked my hand on your arse, my mouth on your hole, my prick inside of you. Or did I get all that wrong?”

Draco finds the cool insouciance with which Harry speaks maddening but he doesn’t manage much more than a half-hearted glare.

“You have a filthy mouth.”

“You know I do,” Harry smirks. “You love it too, don’t you, Draco?” he pushes and moves his hand to rest on Draco’s hip, just above his arse. He squeezes a little and guides Draco to walk a little closer to him. Draco lets him and quietly misses Harry’s warm hand splayed out over his buttock.

“Hm, yes, I adore your filthy mouth,” he says, quite blasé about the fact that they are once again talking dirty in public where anyone could hear them. “Sometimes I do enjoy shoving my cock all the way into your filthy mouth to shut you up for a little while,” he retorts.

Harry whistles, cheekily smacks his arse and then moves his hand back to rest on his hip. He stops walking and Draco stops with him, lets Harry pull him flush against his front and hypnotise him with his impossibly green eyes. “You are way too naughty for your own good, Draco Malfoy,” he whispers and Draco obstinately holds his gaze.

“Do something about it, if you don’t like it,” he challenges and shudders when Harry’s expression grows stern.

“You know, I think I will do exactly that when we get home later tonight.”

Draco is at once both excited and a little scared but after a little debate with himself his excitement wins over his mild apprehension and he tilts his head upwards, silently asking for a kiss. Harry indulges him and when he pulls away, Draco feels just a little dazed.

“You know what, Harry? I think you should leave your hand on my arse, after all, I like everybody knowing that I’m yours.”


	14. Hand Clasped Around Loose Fist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it looks a bit like a praying gesture, but this was by far the best photo I could find. The internet actually failed me, I'm crying bitter tears.
> 
> [ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/13414151@N02/33019418058/in/dateposted-public/)
> 
> _"Just to hold my hand will make me think you love me as much as I love you."_ \- Leigh-Ann Beckett

Draco can’t quite describe it properly but there’s something truly comforting about the way Harry lately likes to curl his hand around Draco’s loose fist. 

It feels like—

Draco isn’t sure what it feels like, because when he is with Harry, he feels many things, most of them overwhelming.

He just likes the way Harry’s hand playfully encases his. He never uses any pressure and his hold is tender and loving. Harry’s little finger always slips into his loose fist and his thumb always caresses the back of Draco’s hand. It tickles a little but not enough for Draco to find it uncomfortable.

He stops to walk, buries his feet in the warm white sand and Harry stops with him, steps in front of him and lifts his free hand to rest against Draco’s cheek. Draco tilts his head into the touch, flashes Harry a silly grin and raises a questioning eyebrow. He doesn’t have to ask twice; no words are necessary for this question. Harry understands. His hand slides to the back of Draco’s neck, he pulls him closer, and Draco’s eyes flutter closed before Harry’s lips brush against his own in a tender kiss. His free hand sneaks around Harry’s waist and he tugs. Harry takes a small step forward and when their bodies are pressed flush against each other, Draco contently sighs into Harry’s mouth.

He doesn’t think there is anything that can top an afternoon at the beach together with Harry. No work stress, no commitments of any kind and no photographers from the Prophet looking for an exclusive photo to fill the front page. Nothing but the two of them, the sound of the ocean, the soft sand beneath their bare feet and Harry’s hand clasped around his loose fist.

Except—

Draco sobers and pulls away from the kiss. When did Harry let go of his hand and why didn’t he notice? He blinks, has just enough time to focus and catch the mischievous grin on Harry’s face.

“Tag, you’re it,” Harry shouts, slaps his arse playfully and dashes off down the beach. Too stunned, Draco takes a moment to process exactly what just happened but something about Harry’s bronzed skin reminds him of a Snitch glittering in the sunshine and adrenaline pumps through his bloodstream as he, without thinking, chases after Harry, determined to catch him and wrestle him to the ground. He doesn’t care whether two grown men chasing each other down a beach looks ridiculous, or whether they are too old for this game. Draco is determined, he is going to catch that Snitch, well, Harry Potter, same thing really, it’s just that one is bigger than the other.

The sand makes it hard to run, but Draco refuses to give up and somehow manages to close in on Harry. In a crazy attempt to get the upper hand, he lungs forward but Harry evades him at the last minute. Draco falls, manages to grab hold of Harry’s ankle and yanking hard, he topples Harry and they both end up in the sand. Harry kicks to free his leg but Draco has a vice-like grip on it. He yanks again and Harry, who is trying to get to his knees falls again. Draco laughs and crawls forward before Harry manages to get back onto his feet.

“Gotcha, Potter,” he drawls, straddles Harry’s thighs, and easily pins his hands against the sand.

“Are you sure, my love?” Harry laughs and before Draco has the chance to gather his thoughts, he is the one pinned down and held in place by a strong body and firm, muscular thighs. Draco squeezes his eyes shut, the glare from the sun too much for him to look directly at it, and as if on cue, Harry shifts his head to shield his eyes from the sun.

“Better?” he asks.

Draco blinks and nods.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Harry gives him a lopsided grin and his hands slide from Draco’s wrists to clasp around Draco’s loose fists. His little finger slips into Draco’s fist and his thumbs stroke over the back of Draco’s hand, causing a pleasant tingle to surge up his arms and down his spine.

Draco smiles.

After that perfect kiss and their little chase, somehow all is right in the world again. Harry has his hands clasped around his and Draco curls his fingers tightly around Harry’s little fingers, trapping them inside his fist. He raises a questioning eyebrow.

Harry laughs and obliges. He leans down, kisses him softly and then pulls away. Much to Draco’s dismay, he gets to his feet and pulls Draco up with him, then gives him a most devious smile.

“I’ll give you a five-second head start, Malfoy, and trust me you don’t want the Head of the Auror Department personally to catch you. Because they’ll be no interrogation for you, it’ll be prison time straight away.”

Draco’s eyes darken at the veiled promise of what Harry’s planning on doing to him if he catches him and yanking his hands away from Harry’s he turns and sprints, racing down the beach at top speed. He hears Harry laugh behind him and is utterly grateful that there are Muggles around, which means that Harry can’t cheat and apparate. He stands a fighting chance.

Running faster still, Draco focuses all his energy and redirects it into his feet as he bolts down the beach, determined to get away from Harry. He manages to put a good two-hundred yards between them when Harry’s arms wrap themselves around his waist and pull him down. He topples, lands on top of Harry, yelps, and tries to get away. Harry’s vice-grip makes that impossible.

“You’re under arrest, Draco Malfoy,” Harry laughs.

“What are the charges?” Draco pants.

“Making the Head of the Auror Department fall hopelessly in love with you,” Harry grins.

“I want a lawyer,” Draco demands.  
  
“Request denied, I vote for unlawful imprisonment and bed restraints.” 

“I’ll sue for damages.”

“Be my guest,” Harry says, “if you can still talk when I’m finished with you.”

Next Draco knows that awful sensation of a disillusionment charm washes over him and next Harry apparates them away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a bit of Real Life fluff. ;-)


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